


Art of Pursuit

by nervousghoul



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21514450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervousghoul/pseuds/nervousghoul
Summary: I won't sink, I won't wallow.In this dream that I have borrowed.So don't lead, I won't follow.There's no sense in waiting for tomorrow.
Kudos: 5





	Art of Pursuit

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little drabble I wrote for an English assignment, so I figured I'd post it here too.

The thick, winding tree roots seemed to surge and threaten to pull him down with every hurried step. One moment he was sliding on wet splotches of mud and the next he was nearly tripping over the offending branches that sprouted from the moist ground below. He wondered if he was more afraid of falling than being caught by his pursuer. Vainly attempting to keep himself upright, Tim stumbled through the overwhelming brush and into a clearing. He was heaving with every breath, throat raw and stinging from running so long. Every inhale burned his nose. His legs would have been hurting too, had they not been almost completely numbed by the frigid cold that enveloped Rosswood Forest at any given time of the year, even in the most brutal summers. Tim wanted to keep moving so badly, but the telltale shaking of his legs made him aware of how close they were to giving out.

He needed to sit. He needed to sit right now or he would fall over.

With a shuddery grunt, he lowered himself down and onto the mossy forest floor, knees buckling underneath him before his bottom touched the ground. He scanned the trees surrounding the small clearing, observing for the presence of the person he had been running from. The awful feeling of being watched set in, and Tim knew they were close by. The lingering noise of muffled static was getting loud again, but the thumping of his heart against his rib cage was louder and Tim closed his eyes.

Maybe if he pretended he was anywhere but here, he would wake up somewhere else and not have to deal with this nightmare anymore.

Life had just started to return to normal. How did he even get himself into this mess again?

A twig snapping in the distance behind him made him whirl around, eyes darting between the towering shadows of the oak trees that plagued this area of the forest. He couldn't see him, but he knew Skully was close. With shaky hands, Tim dug into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a lighter. Flicking it on, he held it in front of him. It did very little to light up the gloomy woods, but the warmth was somewhat comforting. He let out a breath that he wasn’t even aware he was holding, and scooted backwards to rest against a fallen tree. It dampened the back of his shirt, but at this point, with how torn up and dirty his clothes were, it didn’t bother him. Tim eventually let the lighter go out, the flint wheel becoming too hot to touch.

Curling up on himself, Tim shuddered and laid his head on the ground. He tried to fight the heaviness settling behind his eyes, the thrill of the chase ebbing away as exhaustion swiftly took over his cold and aching body. He was too tired to run. Too tired to fight. He would do the only thing he could.

Fall asleep and hope hypothermia kills him before Skully does.


End file.
